


In the City

by Butterhawk



Series: Lawgiver [1]
Category: Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut?, I call him Fix, Mutants, Uncomfortable Dredd, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterhawk/pseuds/Butterhawk
Summary: “Then do it.” She gives him a sharp nod, before straightening her back and letting her hands hang at her sides, only for the fingers to curl into fists.“... What?”“You have my permission, Judge. Whatever it takes. Just get her back.”He gives her a nod only to sigh when he’s out of sight of her.Just what was so important about Cassandra that he was permitted to break the law?~~Dredd makes the clan techie help him find Cassandra Andersson that's been taken from her home.
Series: Lawgiver [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604986
Kudos: 13





	In the City

Mega-City One 2090.  
800 million people living in the ruins of the old world and the mega structures of the new ones. Only one thing fighting for order in the chaos - Judges.  
Cassandra Andersson felt done with it all as she walked away, passing the Chief Judge on her way to anywhere but here. She felt shaken, scared, angry… beaten.  
She felt hungry.  
When was the last time she had eaten?  
Still, she had to return to the Grand Hall of Justice and change back into her civilian clothes and turn in whatever she had left after losing most of her gear at Peach Tree.  
She had already given Judge Dredd her badge on her way out of the gruesome mess they had left behind them.

The city was massive and getting from one side of it to another was a pain in itself, especially now that it was stretching down the east coast to Miami and from east to Canada's Quebec City. Every day there were discussions over what path to take before it all crumbled over or turned into utter disarray.

The Grand Hall of Justice was a black building that towered over the nearby houses.  
It looked like three towers attacked each other with one huge golden Judge-symbol covering the upper part. It was a massive superstructure and moving around in there could be confusing, she had to stop and ask for directions to the locker rooms of an older woman in a smart power suit, looking like a secretary but with ambitions.  
She stripped off the armor over the uniform, wincing over the wound in her side where the bullet had grazed her. It had shocked her more than actually wounded her, not like the wound in Dredd that he had stapled together like it was nothing.  
  
She liked him though, Joseph Dredd. There was more there than met the eye, she had felt amusement from him now and then, so there must be some kind of humor there.  
Underneath the leather.  
  
Finishing her shower she dressed quickly, hearing two female judges finishing their shift and talking while getting undressed. She didn’t want to speak with anyone, didn’t want to be seen at all now that she had failed. She slunk past them with her eyes lowered, scanning their heads as she passed but they were too busy making plans for the weekend.

Close to home, she stopped at a diner, not wanting to get back to her apartment in the Thunderbolt just yet.  
  
Behind the counter stood one of the city’s millions of robots that, according to the general opinion, had stolen all the jobs from the humans.  
In a sense they were right. Finding work in one of the mega-cities was hard, making most people turn to crime and petty theft instead. Hence the judge system.

  
She has heard about a place far away named Mongolia, with no mega-cities and no law. Maybe getting work is easier there?  
Though she doubts it. No law = No judges. No judges = Chaos. And also crawling with mutants and whatnot.

  
She chooses one of the booths at the window, not wanting her back to the street even if she doesn’t wear the uniform.  
Still, you never are quite safe anywhere, if faith wants you dead then you die, no matter how good or how long you hide. It’s astounding anyone grows up and even more so if they get to watch their kids do so too.

She wants to change the system, the cities, the world. But since she can’t even be a judge. A depressing thought after ten years of training.

  
Usually, judges trained for fifteen years. Usually, they were cloned from other judges. Usually, she didn’t care about these things. Usually...

  
While eating the greasy food she can’t help but think of the clan techie she allowed to run free. Did he have somewhere to go? She licked the salt from two of her fingers.  
Would he be snatched up and abused by another clan in Peach Tee? Even with the Judges there cleaning up, surely the remaining clans are already struggling amongst themselves to see who will take Ma-Mas position as the main leader.  
The unemployment rate at that place had been 95% give or take with so many casualties. What else were people to do?

Ma-Ma had been fierce, and practical. She hadn’t wanted Cassandra beaten or raped since it would make it look worse than a drug bust gone wrong.  
Still, she had appreciated it, one woman to another.  
Cassandra herself had made Kay piss himself while in his head, but he had rattled her, a lot more than Ma-Ma had...

Taking her time and slurping down a synthetic milkshake with a strawberry flavor she eventually started walking home, wondering what strawberry really tasted like.  
Surely no one had seen one for generations? Let alone tasted one.  
  
On the dirty menu, wrapped in hard plastic, there had been a triangular shape with soft edges and a smiley face winking at her while doing a little dance. Suppose that must have been one.  
The sky had gone dark but with all the lights still on everywhere it was hard to tell sometimes.  
  
Dredd was outside the entrance leading into the massive building block. He was still in his helmet and his uniform, leaning on his Lawmaster motorcycle, his generous mouth in that grim sneer of his like he detested the very air around him.  
She wondered if he had an apartment or if the rumors were true?  
That he slept ten minutes in a sleep machine at the Grand Hall of Justice before hitting the streets again.  
Did he expect the same dedication of his fellow judges?

“Andersson.”  
  
“Dredd. I--” She felt her mouth go dry and her palms start to sweat. What else could he want now? Was she to be punished for not making the cut too? “Do you want to come in?”  
  
He gave her a pained face like she had insulted him somehow by just trying to be polite.  
“No.”  
  
“Well then…?” She almost wanted to pry, to see if she could slip into his head and have a look-see when he interrupted her train of thought by holding out her Judge-badge.  
  
“You forgot this. I’ll be expecting you first thing Monday morning.”  
  
“Really? You mean I--”  
  
“You’re a pass.”

He mounted the Lawmaster and she took a step back to give him room, knowing there was no point in trying to talk to him and ask what made him so sure while she wasn’t. Watching his back disappear amongst the crowd she bounced on her heels, suddenly feeling a lot better with herself than she had just an hour ago.

She lived on the 41st floor or the Thunderbolt block, named after an old actor no one could remember. The unemployment rate at 81%.  
  
The apartment was small but had all the comfortable necessities needed for her to feel at home. She still had to use a public shower just like everyone else but at least she had her own toilet which in her book; was always a plus.  
Life in the mega blocks was never quiet, and in a sense, it was comforting to know she always had people around. Mutants were not allowed to be viewed as real citizens and because of that didn’t have the right to go with it.  
Only recently had they been granted access back into the city; but that was only for the ones like herself with mutations you could not see with the naked eye.

  
The holidays were chaotic, even for those without a job. Parties were going on here and there, some covering entire floors. People drinking or doing drugs, only to scatter like rats if someone yelled ‘Judge’.  
She didn’t care much about it, didn’t see the reason for making enemies where she slept and if she had to be brutally honest: she didn’t mind people trying to have some fun. As long as it was in an orderly fashion and as long as nobody got hurt.

It was past midnight when the feeling came over her again. Joe next door had a habit of smacking up his wife and kids when he had a few beers too many and she could sense him, even in her dreams. The same questions that always pop up, the anger when his disgusting mind fills in the blanks with pictures of his wife Maria with the guy in the apartment over theirs.  
  
It has never happened and never will, seeing as Maria finds the man upstairs repulsive, but that doesn’t stop Joe from going into a jealous rage and she hurries to get up, sensing Maria gathering up the kids to come hide in Cassandra’s, like the last three times.  
While opening her door her eyes fall on something else than the neighbors, and she only had a minute to gawk at the short, almost dwarf-like man with three eyes and no hair. He grinned at her, somehow shielding the two men behind him from her mind's eye before they knock her out and everything goes black.  
  
***  
  
Dredd has already been on the streets for five hours, arresting two men for vandalism and robot smashing. Both resulting in eleven years in prison each, adding five years to the guy trying to make a run for it and who’s now sitting with a busted nose and a broken leg; when Cassandra fails to report in.  
Being late is bad enough but when it been an hour and she still isn’t there, he decides to visit the chief Judge. Him trying on Andersson had been her idea after all.

“The rookie is a no show.” No hello just down to business. The black woman behind the massive desk just looked at him before leaning forward and rests on her elbows.  
  
“Good morning to you too, Dredd. And what do you mean with ‘a no show’?”  
  
“She’s not here.”  
  
“You expect her to stand atiptoe and wait for you?” She leans back into her big chair but throws a look at the Horologium, looking perturbed.  
  
“I expect her to do her drokking job.”  
“We didn’t get all of Ma-Ma’s men, we should send two judges to Thunderbolt.”  
  
“I’ll go.”  
  
“Report to me as soon as you can.”  
  
He turns to leave when she calls out his name. “Dredd?... Go easy on her, alright?”  
  
“Sure.”

Like hell, he will. He’s thinking about chewing her head off and making her regret ever taking that badge in the first place.  
She’s an asset; yes. But she’s not worth this much trouble. Thunderbolt lies in sector 19, one look at the traffic makes Dredd take his Lawmaster out on the judge-lane.  
It’s a two-way road running parallel to the major roadways, letting departments vehicles move faster. He tries to ignore the voice in his head, telling him things, making him just a tiny bit concerned.

  
The outside of the mega block looks like all the others. A monstrous tower whose sole purpose is to house as many citizens as possible.  
There is always a neon sign on the side with the name of the block, huge balconies protruding out so that people have a slight chance of going outside without actually having to leave.

  
The first level is filled with shops and small stalls. Mini banks and a small health center. Some blocks even have schools but the further out you go from meg-central the worse it gets.  
Dredd spots the usual cameras while going up to Andersson's floor. It’s to the right of the elevator, fire doors down. He passes a woman sitting outside of her home on a rickety chair with a screaming baby in her arms and a black eye that has most of her left eye swollen shut.

Knocking on the door, he focuses on the outside, on the eyes he can feel on the back of his neck. Knocking again makes no difference and he tilts his head to the woman when she gets up and slowly walks to him while bouncing the baby in her arms.  
“She’s not there, s-sir.”

  
“No?” He waits while she bites her lip, looking around them.

  
“She’s gone. S-she usually lets me in when Joe-- my husband, when he--”

  
“Maria?!” An angry voice calls from inside and the woman flinches before hurrying back to the chair. “Who are you talking to?!”

  
“No one Joe! I’m talking to no one.”

  
Dredd sighs. He needs to get into Andersson's apartment and not be out here, watching whatever this was unfolding.

  
“Get in here, woman!”

  
He can see her shaking even from over where he stands, the saliva on her lips as she’s crying while not trying to make a sound and kissing the curly black locks on the baby. When she hurries inside her home Dredd tries to open Andersson's door only to find it unlocked.  
  


The apartment is small, two rooms, a toilet, and a kitchenette. The windows are dirty on the outside from the pollution, making it slightly dark inside.  
Three things stand out in her otherwise clean home. The unmade bed, a pile of clothes on the floor and the wet stain near the door.

When he squats down, running a gloved hand over it before smelling it. Bangs are coming from next door, an angry voice from what he guesses is Joe and a sobbing protest from Maria, another loud crash and a child is screaming. Not the baby, someone older.  
“Drokk.”  
  
He leaves the piss stain, and pulls out the daystick, deciding the gun might be too much with children watching. Maria was screaming but now she does a noise low in her throat like a wounded animal and he kicks the door open only to see her on the floor.  
She’s trying to cover two small children while Joe is pelting her with a belt.  
  
Without any hesitation he grabs the belt just as the other man was about to swing it again and uses the edge of the daystick to club him in the stomach, Joe folds over and Dredd strikes him over the back, kicking him in the gut when he falls to the floor wheezing.  
“Drokk! Stop man! Just-- ow drokk!”  
Joe tries to protect his head only to get another boot in his chest and when he tries to scramble up the judge moves in to step on his hand, trapping it to the floor.  
  
“Code two, section two - assault. Five years in an Iso-cube.” He turns to Maria. Her cheap dress is torn showing a shoulder and most of the left thigh. She’s bleeding from her nose now, her hair standing on edge with some bloody roots showing.  
  
The children cry louder and she tries to soothe them while pulling them close to her, nodding to Dredd without looking at him or Joe.  
  
He puts the zip-cuff on the man but lets him lie on the floor as he raises his fist to his mouth.  
“Dredd to Control, I need a pat-wagon at my GPS.”  
  
He pulls the cursing Joe up on his feet and shoves him before him out of the door. Joe keeps yelling that he will be back, that Maria needs to watch her back, making Dredd clap him over the back of the head.  
  
He needs to see if the security footage has caught whoever took Andersson, apparently hitting her over the head with such force that she pissed herself. Shouldn’t she have seen it coming? She felt people through walls for drokk sake! Why was this any different?  
  


They wait close to the entrance, finally, the transport comes to take Joe away and Dredd can walk back in and knock on the security control, curious as to why there hasn’t been anyone out to greet him yet.  
Walking in he’s met by the stench of death, a sweet, sickening smell mixed with whatever was in the bowels of the guards as they died.

  
“Dredd to control. I got bodies for resyk.”

  
“Control to Dredd. Did you say you have bodies for resyk? Is it at your GPS?”

  
“Yes.” He pulls his gun out and starts looking around, moving a bloody shoe out of his way with his boot and freezing when he hears a sound coming from further back.  
“This is the judge. You are advised to come out slowly with your hands above your head or I will shoot.”

  
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot--!”  
An old man looks out from his hiding behind some boxes amongst some shelves. He’s trying to crawl forward on just his knees, wincing and grimacing. The hair and the short beard on his chin are more white than gray, his eyes dark and clear. He’s got a bit of a tan too, or maybe he has that all year round?

  
It's one of the security teams, judging from his clothes and he sighs as he looks at the other two men, blood and brains scattered around the room.  
  
“What happened here?”  
  
“Who knows? One minute we’re having a cup of caf, the next Sato pulls his gun out, shoots Jim before turning it on me. I thought I was dead, so did Sato because he turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. I thought about getting up and calling for help but then I saw the shadow of something huge, outside the windows, on the other side of the blinds! I don’t know what the hell it was but I hid pretty damn quick!”  
  
“That was probably for the best. What’s your name?”  
  
“Oswald. Oswald Jates.”  
  
“Alright, Oswald. I need to see the footage of the 41st floor.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you need Judge. From what day?”  
Oswald got into one of the nicer chairs that lacked the rest of the meaty mess but had a couple of teeth embedded in the neck rest. He looked ostensibly calm but his hands kept shaking. “There is nothing here, well there is but you can’t see it with this piece of junk.”  
  
“Explain.”  
  
“Normal vids are just fine, but this... “ His eyes tighten and he leans forward. “You should find one of those ‘techies’..”  
  
“Hacking is illegal according to code twelve, section four.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. All I’m saying is; good luck getting anything from that tape.” Oswald sighs and transfers it all to a small disk he hands over to Dredd.  
“Maybe you know someone who can do this better than me? I drokking retire.”  
The old man stood up, pulling his nametag off and throwing it on the desk before taking one last look on his younger colleagues and walking off.  
  
Dredd decides it’s best to go back and speak with the chief judge in person.  
  


***  
  


“There is nothing on this. Did you find any clues in her apartment?”  
  
“None.” Dredd folds his arms, he doesn’t like it much either. He needs time to think of a plan. Maybe ask around the other mutants hiding in the city?  
  
“You said the guard told you that maybe a hacker could fix this?” The chief judge raises her brows at that and Dredd almost feels a tingle in his scalp.  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“Then do it.” She gives him a sharp nod, before straightening her back and letting her hands hang at her sides, only for the fingers to curl into fists.  
  
“... What?”  
  
“You have my permission, Judge. Whatever it takes. Just get her back.”  
  
He gives her a nod only to sigh when he’s out of sight of her.  
Just what was so important about Cassandra that he was permitted to break the law?  
  


Dredd doesn’t even know where to begin.  
He supposes that he can check the Iso-cubes and see what’s in there but decided against it. He needs noise. Needs to hear something other than the eerie silence in the Grand Hall of Justice, maybe even sustenance.  
  
Once again he’s on the Lawmaster, driving to an eatery nearby. When he spots the yellow t-shirt amongst the crowd outside it’s almost like it’s destiny. Like somehow the gods have conspired against him and Andersson.  
Her letting the miserable creature go and him finding him now that he requires a hacker.  
  
The techie is talking to himself as he’s scurrying forward, his shoulders tense and pulled up towards his ears and the arms on the dirty sweater pulled down to cover his hands. He’s still in those baggy shorts that reach down to his calves, exposing thin white legs and making him look like a small boy. He looks grimy, like Ma-Ma wouldn’t give him any time to clean himself up, the hair greasy and lank.  
  
“Citizen!” Dredd calls out after parking the motorcycle and the techie trips on the curb, only saved from falling over by the judge's gloved hand on his shoulder.  
  
“No!” The young redhead shrieks again before he mewls, just like he had in the flat at Peach Trees. His panic is easy to see, even in his blue bionic eyes, the corners of his mouth caked with something white and slimy. “I’ve done nothing! I-- I have done nothing, please! Just let me go. Please, please... Please?”  
  
“Tell me your name, citizen.”  
  
“Bill! Bill H-H-Huxley.” He sputters “F-Fix. They call me-- Fix. P-Please, I’ve done nothing?!”  
  
“Do you have a job, citizen Huxley?”  
  
“It’s F-Fix. And a-a j-job?... No one has a job! This is mega-city o-one!”  
  
“Code fourteen, section 4 loitering, six months.” Dredd began, gripping the shoulder tighter until it hurt enough for Fix to whimper pathetically. “Not to mention; Code thirteen, section four - obstruction of justice: three months. Code twelve; section four - Hacking; Six years. Should I continue?”  
  
“No, no please.” He sags in Dredds grip and has to be pulled back up on his feet. People have started to notice them now, some stopping to watch with cruel curiosity, hoping the judge will start using violence.  
  
“Have you eaten, citizen Fix?”  
  
“No, no, umh-- no?”

He pulls the creature with him, can hardly see him as a person, much less an adult.  
  
Fix looks like he wants to cry, his eyes are red, infected or something and he keeps staring at the table, his mouth opening and closing like he's trying to make up excuses or explanations but discards them just as fast.  
  
What Dredd had discarded as smudge seems to be a tattoo, placed awkwardly on the techie's forehead.  
“Male?”  
  
“I-In case I-- umh-- I didn’t, I-I--”  
  
“Shut up.” He feels like an asshole but he doesn’t have all day. The redhead looks frightened och pulls more on the disgusting sweater so he can cover more of his hands again. He’s sucking on his lower lip, pressing himself against the wall.  
“I apologize, I get grouchy when hungry.”  
  
Fix nods and sits up again, eyeing the menu but not taking one like he didn’t think he was allowed to have any.  
  
“Here. Order what you want.” He pushes the glossy menu over to the other who soon starts talking quietly to himself like he is counting the prizes in his head and trying to find out what's cheapest.  
“I told you to order what you want. Do not make me do it for you.”  
  
A droid finally walks up to them and pulls out a notepad and a pen, like it's going to need one. The city seems torn, one half wanting to move forward, the other backward.  
  
“I’ll have Sam’s special and a frittata with cheese.”  
  
“And to drink?”  
  
“Water, plain.”  
  
The droid zooms in on Fix that’s trembling on the other side of the table.  
“I-- I umh--”  
  
“Don't have all day, citizen…”  
  
“I want buttermilk pancakes, some apple crumble and oreo milkshake! P-Please?..”  
  
The droid nods and walks away, leaving Dredd to shake his head at the boy.  
“You do know there is no real sugar in that? Sugar being banned…”  
  
“My tasteb-buds doesn't-know that. “ Fix simpers.  
  
They eat in silence, the clan techie snarfs it down like he’s scared Dredd might take it away.  
Fix is content and has a sort of glow to him, every crumble is gone. He stuck his fingers into the milkshake glass and licked it clean. It had been... disturbing.  
“I-I don’t suppose-- umh, that you-your a-avocation is- no- feeding st-trays?”  
  
“My avocation? Now that’s a big word.”  
  
Fix blushes an alarmingly shade of red, his bionic eyes look almost black inside of the dull diner and he’s lowering his eyes again like Dredd was some wild animal that might eat him.  
“T-Then w-what..” He stutters, pulling on his sweater. He smells dainty, the pancakes mixed with apples and Oreos, the ephemeral joys of a sheltered childhood.  
  
“I have a video feed I need you to clean up for me, or if you can break into the Tomb and fetch it there?”  
  
“B-Breaking i-into t-he t-tomb... I’d have to… hack my way in?” Fix gave him an incredulous look. Was this a trick question? Was the judge trying to set him up?  
  
“Yes.” Dredd answers carefully.  
  
“That’s-- that’s Code twelve, section f-f-four.. I..No, I can’t-- Y-You said f-five..”  
  
Dredd is surprised he remembers so well and nods. “It is, but you would have a Get-out-of-ico-cubes-card. But it only applies to this. If you do anything else the assurance I can give you is revoked.”  
  
“I-if I say n-no..?”  
  
“Then it’s your choice. However, to sweeten the deal, You will be allowed free meals, three times a day for a week.”  
  
“And a p-place t-to sleep?...”  
  
Dredd snorted, folded his arms in front of him, making Fix bite his lip again, but the little spugwit didn’t back an inch.  
  
“Deal.”  
  
“D-Deal?!” the techie's eyes looked abnormally big in his pale face now that he was smiling. His eyebrows were more yellow than red, his lashes almost transparent and the eyelids puffy and swollen. Something was transuding and sticking to the lower eyelashes, puss?  
  
“We should have a medic check your eyes out.” He says, face grim and the pale one stops smiling at once, mewling softly.  
“Please no..”  
  
“Out of discussion. We’re doing this.” He pays the droid before dragging the other one with him outside.

The real hardship came when he asked Fix to sit behind him on the motorcycle so they could get going. Apparently, this was way worse than being asked to hack the Tomb by a judge or agreeing to see a doctor.  
  
Fix was sobbing now, drying the snot off his nose with the dirty sweater and Dredd promised himself that he would rather see that disgusting piece of clothing burned than reused.  
Dredd straddled the Lawmaker, holding on to a thin wrist so the techie couldn’t run away.  
He shrieked and whimpered all the way back to The Grand Hall of Justice and Dredd was more than once tempted to shrug him off to certain death. That vid had to be worth it.

Climbing the stairs from the garage with Fix after him was… odd. Everyone was staring. Even stopping to whisper. But these were not judges, just people working at the justice department.  
  
“Is doctor Gill in?” He asks at the information desks where three droids welcome visitors and guide them if they can. People can’t move freely, the doors are locked and the retina has to be scanned for them to open. This to ensure ordinary civilians don’t walk in on something they shouldn’t.  
  
“Yes. You have an hour, judge.”  
  
A door buzzes open and they are about to pass through it when the droid stepped in front of them.  
“Who is he?”  
  
“My contact. Fix.”  
  
“Scanning.”  
  
“You don’t have to scan shit, just let us pass. Today droid…” The droid moves out of the way and they keep going, the techie holding on to the black flak vest that goes over the leather uniform every Judge wears. Dredd figures it’s better than him trailing far behind him.  
They reach the medical quarter and see a woman tending to a wounded judge that’s sitting on a bed, grunting as she patches him together then staples the skin together.  
Fix looks green.  
  
“Dredd!” She says with a smile when she has the time to notice them. Bodhi's brown hair is in a bun, her clothes soft in green scrubs with a baby blue doctor's coat.  
  
“And who’s this?” She smiles at Fix, not at all as old and creepy as the techie had dreaded she would be.  
  
“Your patient.”  
  
“I see…” She puts her hands on the sides of Fix's head and stares into his eyes. He’s blinking and holding his breath, it seems.  
  
“Look up, look down. Can you follow my finger?” She moves it around before turning around to grab an ophthalmoscope. “Uh-huh. I’m going to prescribe eye drops I want you to take five times a day for a week. Okay, sweetie?”  
  
Sweetie? If that’s how she speaks to people he will take care of his wounds himself. However, it does seem to work on the techie as he’s now smiling shyly, nodding at her while she tells him of the infection and that he’s not allowed to touch the eyes with his dirty hands or that sweater for that matter. What even was that?  
  
“How about a shower, sweetie? I have some clean clothes that should fit you.”  
The ginger nods but pulls on the arms to cover his hands again.  
It’s now that Dredd realizes that he does indeed smell. Months of sweat and whatnot. When they were outside he had thought it was just a part of the general stink that was Mega-City One. But Fix is dirty.

Bodhi fetches the clothes in a neat little stack but then control tells them she has two judges incoming, Dr. Fair is on his way and should arrive shortly.  
“Gill to control, Ready and standing by.” She turns to them with an apologetic smile and hands the stack over to Dredd. “I’m sorry, seems you have to do it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?! Noo! No, please!”  
  
“It’s alright sweetie, Dredd won’t hurt you. “ She pulls the stinky shit into a hug while giving Dredd a sharp look and mouthing ‘What the drokk have you done?!’  
  
He pulls a face, snorts before grabbing Fix by the shoulder and showing him the way to the showers. Andersson better be drokking worth it.  
  


***  
  


The techie is naked, white as a ghost with nothing even resembling muscles. The little bodily hair he has is a sort of golden/white and hardly visible at all. Instead, there are angry, red scars on him that Dredd assumes are gifts from Ma-Ma.  
He’s crying again, quietly with his hair covering his face and Dredd feels his upper lip stiffen. Why couldn't Dr.Gill just do this? Why did he have to? Clearly, he scared the clan techie.  
  
“Right.“ He says, pulling off his gloves. “Let’s do this.” He removes the flak vest and his jacket but keeps the helmet and everything else on. He wears a standard-issue black tank top with the judge-symbol over the back when he moves closer to the ginger.  
Fix is moving away from him, shoulders up and body shivering in the cold.  
“Stand still.”  
  
“Noo.. please don’t. Please?” He answers in a whisper, whimpers and is finally backed into a corner by Dredd who’s very slowly laying his hands on his shoulders, making him move back under the showerhead and turning it on once his there.  
Fix flinches, he’s unmoving now, a oneiric appearance like he’s so far away he won’t be coming back.  
  
Not one to shilly-shally, Dredd decides to just go ahead and wash his hair. They have to start somewhere and he grabs the nearest bottle, not caring if it’s shampoo or just plain shower gel. Lathers up the hair while trying to keep it from those open eyes.  
They probably hurt enough already.  
  
He then continues with the back and the chest, raises his arms one by one to wash the pits, noticing there isn’t any hair there. Forcing the thought deep back and far away into his mind.  
The crotch-area gets to settle with some more direct sprays from the showerhead he pulls out and so does the butt. He doesn’t want to squat down and scrub those legs and feet so he just squirts on a large amount of shower gel, waits and then rinses it off. There. That’s how you shower a stranger. It’s probably not how Dr.Gill would have done it but he’s not her. He’s not a babysitter.  
  
He’s about to put Fix under the dryer when he remembers the noise of it and he hesitates. They’re not in a terrible hurry are they? And it’s not cold here down in the cellar of the Great Hall. Yeah, it is. Especially if you’re built like the techie.  
“Drokk.”

He dries the ginger much as he washed him. Above the hips are fine, everything under there just has to dry itself on the black towel he throws on, made for Judges, looking like a tent on the skinny redhead.  
  
He hates this, what’s he’s been reduced to. If he can’t get out and shot someone soon he’s going to have a mental breakdown.  
Fix is still, pliant in his arm like a life-sized doll. Has Dredd broken it? He tries getting some underwear on but the long limbs are a handful, so he sits down and pulls Fix back towards him, dressing him like he was dressing a smaller version of himself.  
A small, comatose version… with a small--Hey, don’t look at that!  
  


***  
  


Eventually Fix is in Dr.Gill’s dark blue sweatpants and sweater from a university she’s gone to. The underwear and the tanktop were standard-issue like Dredds but the socks were handmade or something. Knitted maybe? He had never seen anything like it.  
  
He contemplated taking the techie back to the doctor and was carrying him in his arms when he met up with the Chief Judges' assistant. An older woman who always liked to dress like she was going to a funeral, dark and classy, with her head in an impressive chignon and her nails impeccably painted.  
He hadn’t known any women still looked like that until the first time he met her. She was a lot older now but still managed to look graceful and elegant. What was her name again?  
“Judge Dredd.”  
  
“Ms.Nilson.”  
  
“I-- What is this?” She made a gesture to the ginger techie, still scooped up in his arms.  
  
“Dr. Gill told me to wash it.”  
  
“It? What did you do with “its” hair?”  
  
“I but soap in it?” He deadpanned and the ginger suddenly made a weak noise.  
  
“Let me---” She rummaged through her handbag and pulled out a comb.  
  
“No, I’m sure it’s fine.”  
  
“Stand still and let me comb this poor girl's hair out!”  
  
“It’s a man.”  
  
“No!... Is it?” She peered down into the pale face of Fix before snorting. “Oh yeah, I see the tattoo now. ‘Male’ How good of someone to clarify it to us? But still, let me do something with that hair.”  
  
He holds the unresponsive techie so that she can gently comb through the hair, eases it down so that she can pull it into a simple pony.  
He has a feeling the ginger will hate it, him needing something to hide behind. When she talks again she lowers her voice to an almost whisper. “Is he asleep?”  
  
He realizes Fix has closed his eyes at some point so he shrugs and nods.  
  
“The Chief Judge told me to fetch you but take care of him and come to her office when he’s up. I’ll talk with her, don’t worry.”  
She’s talking to him like Fix was a child or a puppy he had found somewhere and he feels the need to sigh again but only sneered when she had already passed him after whispering about the resting-places on the second floor.  
  


***  
  


When Fix comes to, he’s under some sort of cover, a blanket, maybe?  
  
It’s light outside of it but it isn’t thin enough for him to peer through. It’s warm and comfortable though. When has he ever been this relaxed? So snug? He can smell how clean he is, the freshness of the linen he’s lying on. He must be dreaming. This must be heaven!  
  
It’s hell.  
This is what he finds out when he moves the blanket to squint at the Judge that's sitting on a couch nearby, arms folded, helmet on, sleeping, snoring?  
  
Oh yeah. The Judge was going to wash him. Did he? He must have.  
  
He examines himself, feels the sweater, something underneath, sweatpants, underwear… nice underwear.  
  
“Are you masturbating?!” A dark voice suddenly asks and he ceases immediately face flushing.  
  
“What?! No! No-- I just.. I.. I checked..”  
  
“That is was all there?” Dredd snorts but the techie nods slowly.  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
He’s not even going to ask why the ginger was in the habit of doing so.  
  
“Get up, we’re meeting the Chief Judge.”  
  
“What?! Why?!”  
  
“Food and a bed for a week, ring any bells?”  
  
“Oh! Oh yes... Yes, I remember now... “  
  
“But first let’s do the eye drops so Dr. Gill won’t harass me.”Do you want to do it yourself, or should I?”  
  
The ginger pulls the blanket closer to himself, face almost hauntingly pale now that he’s clean and his hair is pulled back. The skin around the eyes is still irritated and red.  
“Y-you..p-please?”  
  
“Yeah. Fine.” He stands close to the bed, pushing the techie close to him so that he can control his movements better and keep an eye up with his thumb and middle finger. Fix struggles to break free but Dredd just holds on harder and suddenly they’re done. The ginger is blinking rapidly, the drops some sort of unguent that's making his eyesight blurry at first.  
“Feeling any better?”  
  
“It's-- it's cool.. against my-- my eyes..”  
  
“Good, then we’re off.”  
  


***  
  


The clan techie self consciously touches his hair a few times but Dredd tells him to leave it. When they stand in front of the Chief Judge the ginger hides behind Dredd, only peering out from under his arm.  
  
“What’s his problem?” She asks sharply.  
  
“Try calling him ‘sweetie’ it seems to work for Dr.Gill.”  
  
“No. No, I don’t think so.” He can’t say he blames her and when she stands up and moves around her desk to grab Fix instead, he lets her.  
  
“No, p-please…” He mewls and she’s staring at him with something close to disgust.  
  
“Is this the hacker, Dredd? Really?”  
  
Dredd shrugs.  
  
“Fine.” She sighs. “Show him to Nilson's office. He can work from there. Just tell me when or if he finds something.” They are free to go and Dredd grabs Fix around his wrist to drag him along to Ms.Nilson. There they find that she has gone for the day, leaving the place impeccable but with a hint of her perfume.  
  
“Sit.”  
  
The techie does as he’s told and watches the two screens in front of him.  
“T-the T-tomb then?”  
  
“Only if we can’t recover the footage from Thunderbolt.”  
  
“..We?..”  
  
“Yeah. I’ll be sitting over there.” He points to a stuffed chair, keeps the helmet on but sits.  
  
“So what am I looking for?” He sounds much more confident now with the screens between them.  
  
“The female judge that let you escape Peach Trees.”  
  
“O-Ohh… alright. Let me..”  
  


***  
  


He finds it fast enough but like the security guard, he can’t see anything. His thin fingers move quickly over the keys, nails short and bitten. There is something there, something strange and he feels his bionic eyes filter out bits before he can make the program he’s running to so as well.  
Eventually, he sees something, the female judge walking home and going up to her floor and then hours later a tiny bald man with two tall ones behind him, crooked and shuffling as they move.  
  
Obviously mutants.  
  
The short one turns to the nearest camera and the feed gets bad again but it doesn’t go away entirely.  
They move up to her floor and go straight to her door. They knew she would be there, they were there for her.  
  
When she opens the door one of the bigger ones seems to knock her out. She’s wearing a dress as they are carrying her away and people are moving like they don’t see them.  
  
“I got it. Or I think I do. Here, look. See those three?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Seen them before?” He still does the awkward face but he’s surprised over how much surer he sounds of himself. He could do this! He had done well! Sort of paying her back her for letting him go.  
He can do it until the Chief Judge walks in and he’s all stuttering and licking the lips that suddenly feels dry.  
  
She watches the feed in silence, only muttering a ́Drokk ́ before straightening her back again. “Maybe he could use some food?” She says, a tone in her voice telling Dredd to get something esculent; not asking him. “Before you take him to bed.”  
  
“Yeah.. a bed, not my bed.  
  
“And you are reading too much into it, Dredd. Maybe you need to sleep to? Like the rest of us mortals?” She scoffs and he sneers, gripping Fix’s thin arm, pulling him out of Ms.Nilsons chair.  
“It’s off to Slumberland with you.”  
  
“But.. but I thought…”  
  
“You thought what, citizen?”  
  
“I-I thought you weren’t going to k-kill me. I-- Oh, please? Please don’t kill me!”  
  
“Sleep, Fix. I’m talking about sleep. You earned it after you eat something.”  
  
“I.. I what? E-earned?”  
  


***  
  


There are no pancakes in the kitchen located on the third floor, next to the resting-place with the bunk beds. Instead, the ginger eats protein bars while biting on his thumbnail, sitting on the countertop. He’s still in those odd socks, no shoes, and the hair still up in a ponytail.  
  
“Stop that.”  
  
“I can’t. I.. I think I have seen that man before.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“The small mutant with the three eyes. I-- I’m not... I’m not sure... I--” He has to stop talking to jawn and is about to rub his eyes before Dredd grabs the arm.  
  
“Sleep on it. Come on, let’s take those drops”  
  
Fix only nods and hurries after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, no?


End file.
